Mijo
by RemyMcKwakker
Summary: Rex wants to be just like César when he grows up. César doesn't want him to be. Pre-Nanite Event. César is 18 and Rex 3.


**I have decided to take some liberties with the age gap between César and Rex, because it's never really been mentioned in the series. And even though there are moments when I seriously want to kill César slowly and painfully, and it killed me when Rex said he never wanted to see him again, I truly believe César isn't evil, or trying to hurt Rex. He just sees things from a different perspective, and he sure needs to lighten up and for once be honest with Rex and prove he cares.**

**End Rant. Enjoy.**

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Eighteen-year-old César opened his closet door to find his favorite shirt and jacket missing. Wondering where it could have gotten to, he turned back around and scanned his room. There wasn't much there, except for a few computers and enough papers to compile a book with, and so César decided to extend the search to his little brother's room.

He could hear giggling issuing from Rex's room as he neared it. He absently wondered what his little brother was doing, before he was distracted by the light switch on the wall. It smelled funny, and César, being César, decided to investigate. He leaned close and sniffed it, before extracting a small screwdriver from his pocket and unscrewing the cover, exposing the wires underneath. He had it fixed in less than a minute – a simple case of a blown fuse – and then remembered he was still in his pajamas.

Putting the screwdriver back in his trouser pocket, he resumed his journey down the hall to Rex's room. The giggling grew louder and more enthusiastic, and once César was within three meters of the door he could make out words.

"Shiza's smart … not like me, I'm not that smart … he can do all sorts of things … he once made me a small computer for my birthday … it even knows my name! … and he can fix anything …"

César wondered who his little brother was talking to, but before he could find out he remembered he had to fix the TV in the living-room downstairs.

Of course, "fix" really meant taking the TV apart and extracting whatever parts he needed for his current project. Or to be more accurate, projects.

When he was done, he remembered Rex and his state of undress and proceeded once more towards the youngest Salazar's room. This time he managed to make it without being distracted (much). He silently pushed the ajar door open and peeked in.

Rex was seated on the floor with his back to the door, dressed in what looked like a pillowcase. He seemed to be talking to himself.

"Shiza once broke the TV … he fixed it before Dad found out. I wish I was smart like Shiza …"

César entered and knelt down next to his little brother. "Who're you talking to, little bro?" he asked.

Rex smiled when he saw him. "Dexter," he said proudly. "I's telling him about you."

"Who's Dexter?" inquired César.

"My friend," Rex told him. "Don't you know?"

César shook his head.

"You can't see him?"

Another shake of the head.

"But he's right there!" said Rex, pointing in front of him. "Look, he's waving at you!" He reached up and took César's face in his small fingers, turning it into the general direction of the window.

With a wave of unexpected sadness César realized that Dexter was an imaginary friend. Rex felt lonely enough to invent a friend, because his family was too busy with other things. César would have felt guilty, but then he noticed what Rex was wearing.

"Hey, that's my shirt and my jacket," he said. "Why are you wearing it, little brother?"

"I like it," Rex told him. "When I grow up I want to be just like you." Dexter seemed to be forgotten, and César knew it was because for the time being, Rex didn't need him anymore. He had his big brother.

César looked down at his little brother, and felt an uncharacteristic affection. He put his arms around the three-year-old and shifted him into his lap. "Why do you want to be just like me?" he asked softly.

Rex looked so surprised at the display of affection that it almost killed César. Just how lonely was the kid? Finally, he answered, "Because you're smart, Shiza. I'm not."

"You are," César told him. "Just in a different way."

Rex looked interested. "Really?"

"Yes," César confirmed. And because he felt he was the worst brother in the world, and he wanted to try to make it up to Rex, he said, "You want to hear a story, little bro?"

Rex nodded, jet-black hair flying everywhere. "Yes!"

César began a far-fetched tale of aliens and Mars, and as the story progressed Rex grew heavier in his arms. Just as the human was examining the machines on Mars with a fascination akin to that of César's, Rex gave a little snore, and César realized he had fallen asleep.

He watched him take deep, peaceful breaths for a few minutes, and then whispered, "Don't be like me, _mijo_. I'm not – I'm not good enough. Just be yourself."

And years later, even though Rex had forgotten this ever happened, this stuck with him.

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**Review or I'll sic a hyperactive, high-on-caffeine Bobo on you.**

**Oh, and just assume Shiza is baby talk for César. And the grammar mistakes when Rex is talking are deliberate; he is, after all, just three.  
**

**-Peace  
**


End file.
